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Most Depressing Goddam Books EVER.
When you're wallowing in bitterness and self-pity, there's no pick-me-up like a good, depressing book. I was lucky enough to find a copy of The Lost Weekend (Charles Jackson, 1944) and am thoroughly enjoying it—it makes the movie version look like a two-reel comedy (and yes, there is a gay subplot).
Other favorite slit-your-wrist reads (both well-written, by masters):
Predestined: A Novel of New York Life (Stephen French Whitman, 1910, reissued 1974), the story of a man who fails, repeatedly, at everything he attempts in life.
Back Street (Fannie Hurst, 1931)—again, if you've seen either of the movies, you won't be prepared for this grimly realistic book about a woman's doomed affair with a married man and how her life is slowly ruined.
What books make you want to turn on the gas?
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